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She once had a smile that could make the rainbow seem dull
She once had promise for her premise, beyond cuddling dolls
At age eight, red or blue dress was not even hers to decide
What she thought could not have been more than a bug’s bite
Death invaded the dreams of a girl and drove it down the sewer
This poor little Mbula girl had nobody left except for half a father
Who also shortly drank himself to death mourning her late mother
She would have their love and sympathy but it never lasts for
long
After few years of decorating hell, they gave her away for
marriage
She was marrying a thirty year old at eleven, she needed courage
He paid in full; his loins needed filling and so her age did not
matter
Bakuli! She cried for God to come to her rescue as he thrust
harder
There was no going back now that she is broken in spirit and body
The village nurse said she was pregnant and they called it a
miracle
The child’s wailings and the demands of his father leave her no
rest
But it flowed and never stopped until she needed blood infusion
Or like her mother and grandmother; would wither fast away and
fall filled